A Clue In Red
by SherlockChlo
Summary: In recent murders, one thing has always been the same. A mysterious red spider has been left on the body of the dead. Who is killing them? What can Sherlock do? When he is sent into a coma, John is in prison and Sherlock wakes up to help his friend. Can he save him, or not? And what will it take. I do not own Sherlock or any of the characters.
1. Chapter 1

_**A Clue In Red**_

"_**Sherlock Holmes. My name is Sherlock Holmes."  
**_

"_**You know mine." A hood let itself fall, "Sweet, innocent Molly Hooper."**_

"Why?" Sherlock's hands remained placed inside his pockets.

"You needed waking up Sherlock. I simply found the perfect way of doing it!"

_**Chapter 1**_

_***3 months previously***_

"_**So. This isn't a normal suicide then, Sherlock?"**_

"It looks like a normal suicide if you ask me!" John stood next to the head of the corpse. The body lay in the middle of a bakery, head to toe soaked in blood. The hair left on the girl's head was matted and torn. Her body was limp and frail, tangled in a strange pattern upon the wooden floor. Her right hand was missing its wedding finger, and her left; the middle. Fresh blood lay in a puddle around her hands, as if they were swimming in their own insides.

"No." Sherlock's voice was low. No sign of emotion. But nobody standing around the body was surprised. Each pair of eyes stared upon the tall and mysterious figure pacing around the room.

"_**Maybe it was our favourite psychopath? Maybe he has something to tell us?" Anderson lent against the wall, his arms folded and his tone questioning. Sherlock's long and bony fingers placed themselves inside the girl's mouth to open it slightly. Something rather large and red crawled creepily out of the dead and weak girl's mouth. **_

"_**Is that... Is that a spider?" Lestrade's hand was placed over his mouth, shocked and disbelieving the animal that had just crawled out of a place where nobody had expected it. The red figure slunk around in plain sight, every eye watching its long and piercing legs crawl down the body of the 'victim'. Grabbing Anderson's hat, John lept upon the spider trapping it. Sherlock, facing towards the broken door, remarked a small snigger. He could see John's leap through the reflection on the cracked window.**_

"Good catch." Sherlock smirked, hoping that nobody could catch the glimpse of his true emotions. John, however, knew exactly how his best friend ticked. His smile reflected the humour that John found inside of his colleague.

"Let's return to the lab. Well. The flat. We need to check out that spider. Come along John." Sherlock stormed out of the room, his coat flying behind him. It was almost as if it was trying to keep up with its owner. 

_**(Back at 221B)**_

_**In the kitchen, the kettle had boiled. John marched towards the fridge. He yanked open the door, not concentrating on what he was doing. His head turned towards the contents of the fridge. The door immediately shut.**_

"Oh. Bloody hell." John re-opened the fridge, trying to convince himself of what he had just seen inside his own place of food. "There's... Sherlock. There is another bloody head in our _**fridge. Why?" He still asked Sherlock the question, even though he already knew that Sherlock's answer was bound to be about some experiment that he was trying to conclude.**_

"His name is Timothy. He was annoying me in the cupboard." The crinkling newspaper that Sherlock was studying was now being slammed upon his well-worn table. "So now I've decided to measure how much saliva is made after death." John simply grabbed the milk and shut the door of the fridge before his eyes started to see other strange experiments that were mysteriously placed there. 

"_**How's the spider going?" John asked, trying to change the conversation to something more pressing than what he had just seen.**_

"Do you want the simple answer? It'll help your small and barely used brain to come to terms to my level. But maybe two or three floors below." John's facial expression changed to one of disgust. He couldn't believe that his so-called friend and flat mate had just told him that he was an extremely dumb human being.  


"_**Oh. Don't be offended. You're just like everyone else. Any way. The spider. This spider only had 5 legs remaining on its body. Over the past few weeks I have been finding bodies. It started 4 weeks ago on the 24**__**th**__** of August. There was a young man... (A flash-back starts) I found him underneath the bridge. His hands were missing the middle finger on his right hand, and his wedding finger on his left. He had no face."**_

"What?" John's voice questioned.  


"_**His face had been torn off. There was nothing left. Simply bone. However, it was neat. Blade seemed professional. So. The killer had to be someone that was skilled in using knives. He had a spider with all 8 of its legs still remaining upon its body. The Homeless Network kept finding new bodies. Each time I was alerted about a new body; the spider had one less leg."**_

"Wait. So it was... Counting down?" John couldn't believe the words that were leaving Sherlock's mouth. His hands were now placed upon his forehead.

"It hasn't stopped. It's still counting. Someone is killing people and leaving them for me to find... AH! It's a message! Someone is leaving a message. But what are they counting down to?" Sherlock had jumped out of his crouching position in his chair and already grabbed his coat and scarf. His flat mate had no clue what thoughts were running through his 'superior' mind, but he followed without asking questions.


	2. December 21st

_**Chapter 2**_

_**(December 21st)**_

_**Outside of 221B, Lestrade waited for the only man who he knew he could count on. Sherlock saw his shadow through the glass door and was already waiting for him with tea and biscuits. Mrs Hudson lead Lestrade up the stairs towards a mystery wrapped in a human body.**_

"Another?" Sherlock's low and emotionless tone knew exactly what was happening. John, on the other hand, was still as clueless as he was when they found the first body with the police. "Is there another spider? No fingers? This is someone's mark. As they kill, they leave their own special message. Why?"

"Sherlock... You haven't... Right. John. Would you like to know about her?" John looked straight into Lestrade's eyes. "Another woman." The drive in the police car was long and boring. Lestrade explained to John everything he knew about the woman's whereabouts. As the car pulled up along side a tall and lonely looking house. Teenagers lurked around every corner, all watching the Police and their investigation. Sherlock's cheeks turned a slight pink colour. He knew that he was being watched. He could smell a recognisable scent in the air. Someone he knew wore that scent every time they met. But whom?

The body inside was indeed another woman. She was not like the others. Her clothes were bright. Her coat was shinning in the light that managed to pierce its way through to her back. The blue of her shoes glistened against the colour of the floor. On the other hand, she was similarly missing her fingers. On the floor, next to her head, lay a scrunched up and blood spilling red spider. This spider had only 2 legs. The count-down was still happening. 

"_**Is there anything different about this body?" Sherlock studied up and down. He couldn't find anything peculiar about it. Lestrade looked at him, and wondered why Sherlock had needed to have asked.**_

"Here. There was a note left. In her pocket... Inside, there was the dead spider." The eyes of both Sherlock and John stopped still in their place. The note was snatched from Lestrade and was immediately read by Sherlock's icy-blue eyes. All that John could see upon the paper was ink. Ink the colour of blood. "Sherlock. This is the 4_**th**__** body that we have found! What is happening?"**_

"_**What does it... Sherlock?" Before John could finish his sentence, Sherlock had run out of the building.**_

"I told you about him didn't I! I'm sure it was him that put the body there. But you didn't listen!" Sally was now leaning against the frame of the door. Her curly hair bounced with every word that she remarked. "Blow to the back of the head."

"Excuse me." 

_**"She was killed by a blow to the back of the head. Look. You can see the mark. Her hair is practically swimming in her brain. What else could it be?"**_

_**John simply stood up and gave a quick nod at Sally, before he left and returned back to his home. She didn't understand. How could John not listen to her? **_


	3. Bart's Morgue

**Hello. I just realised that the whole story was in Bold Italics!? I don't know why, but I changed it in all of my others. This is the first fanfiction that I ever wrote and my friends asked me to post it on here. I objected but here it is, and you're reading it... Strangely! Thank you. :) **

_**Chapter 3**_

_**(Bart's Hospital)**_

"Hello. I know you're here. You told me to meet you somewhere, and here is that place." Sherlock walked carefully but confidently into the morgue. It was one of his favourite places to be.

"Hello sweetheart. How is your little investigation going? I see you found my latest victim." A average height, hooded figure lurked behind one of the fridges. Sherlock couldn't make out the face that was under the hood. Nor did he recognise the voice.

"Sherlock Holmes. My name is Sherlock Holmes. But of course you knew that. You left these spiders for me." Out of his pocket, Sherlock pulled out a scrunched up piece of paper. When opened it contained the note that was left for him, and the spider. "The spider with only two legs," Sherlock smirked. "Very clever. Who are you?" The killer stepped forward. Their cloak was a dark and enticing red. They walked very elegantly trying not to make to much noise with every step that they took. After pacing a few times, to let Sherlock have a look at them, the figure stopped dead.

"You know my name, Sherlock." The hood removed itself to reveal someone Sherlock had indeed expected to see, "Sweet, innocent Molly Hooper."

"Hello Molly. Why?" Sherlock's hands were now back inside his pockets.

"You needed waking up Sherlock. And I found the perfect way of doing that!" Sherlock's eyes followed every gesture that Molly's pale and strong hands made. He had no idea why she would turn against him so suddenly. "Did you like my little poem?" Her smirked lips turned into a full-grown smile. She was pleased with her work.

"It was... Most revealing." Sherlock turned away from Molly's smiling face.

"Revealing? What did it say?"

"Under the floor of your favourite place.  
There will lay your best friend, no emotion in his face.  
His blood will be strong. His heart not so much.  
His expression would have melted with one simple touch.  
Come to that favourite place Sherlock.  
Meet me if you dare.

But just to let you know, I don't believe you care."

"Very good!" The door squeaked. "Hello John. I'm so glad you could join us!" Molly danced around, clapping her hands. "You see, Sherlock. I knew he would come."

"Molly? This whole, killing spree was your doing?" John looked surprised. He couldn't believe that someone he trusted so dearly was leaving dead bodies for Sherlock and himself to find.

"Of course. You didn't even need to kill the people. You just got their clothes from the personal belongings and put the body where you wished." Sherlock paced around the room. Explaining the conclusion that Molly had already given to him weeks before. "You told me that bodies were going missing. They couldn't have just gotten up and walked, could they? They were already out and about. One by one."

"Very good Sherlock!" Molly's eyes fixed upon John. "Now John. What are we going to do with you?" Molly walked towards John and his puzzling face.

"Excuse me? Wait..." Molly pulled a trigger out of her pocket. Her long and black painted nails flipped the switch. John's head drooped. He still remained standing, but it wasn't his own strength that allowed him to dangle.

"Now Sherlock. John is going to try and kill you. The police are outside. I hope you survive. Till the next time." Molly flew out of the window. John's head raised. His eyes full of hatred. His whole life was wiped away and replaced with an assassin's brain.

"John. Wait." John plunged a long a spiked edge knife into Sherlock's side. He could feel the life pouring out of his 'foe'. He held the matter of his existence right in his hands. He felt the power. He enjoyed it. 

"JOHN!" Lestrade pounced upon him, throwing the knife away. Sherlock fell into a deeper and deeper coma. He could feel everything flowing out of him. His sight began to deteriorate. He couldn't hear Lestrade's voice any more. His life was leaving him.


	4. Chapter 4- 5 years later

**_Hello again. I'm sorry this chapter is short! I'll post the longer chapter today as well. Seems only fair considering this is 407 words long!? _**

**_Chapter 4_**

**_(5 years passed)_**

"Mr Holmes? Mr Holmes. How are you, Mr Holmes?" A sweet and nurturing voice helped Sherlock's limp body rest against the hospital bed. "You've been in and out of a coma for 5 years Mr Holmes."

"What. Where... Where's John?" He couldn't speak easily. Instead of words, they were more slurs of sounds. The nurse was used to this kind of thing when he woke up. It was no new story to her.

"John, Mr Holmes. You still don't know where he is, do you?" She placed a pillow underneath his heavy head. "If you manage to stay with me this time, Mr Holmes, I will tell you where John is."

A few hours passed. By this time Sherlock had stayed awake. He couldn't go back into his coma if he knew hat his best friend wasn't by his bed-side. He slurped down a bowl of froth. He couldn't determine exactly what was in it, but it didn't taste very nice in his mouth at all.

"My senses are weak. I need to build that up again. So. Where is he, where is John?" Sherlock placed his bowl down upon the tray that was held in front of him. "Nurse?" The nurse looked blankly a him. Every time he woke up, she had to explain the same thing to him. Although, she had many practices, she still couldn't find the right words. "I know that you're finding it hard. Just put it in the simplest way!"

The nurse's eyes put themselves upon Sherlock's pale and uneasy face. "John. Well. John tried to kill you. He's in a, mental hospital. You know that case that you and he were solving together. The one with the red spiders? He put all of those bodies there. It was him that killed all of those poor and innocent people. I'm very sorry Mr Holmes. The best place for him is the mental asylum!" Sherlock couldn't believe what he was hearing. He jumped straight out of his hospital bed. He grabbed his clothes and headed straight for the hospital toilets. It didn't take him long to get changed. His clothes still remained the same size and shape as he always remembered. Even in a coma, Sherlock Holmes remained the same. Bounding out of the hospital, Sherlock headed straight for the place where John had been kept. He knew that it wasn't John, but he didn't know why.


	5. Chapter 5- Mental Asylum

_**Just to warn you, John has become very violent in the state he's in. I haven't put it in here, but I'm sure Sherlock is pretty scared of what his friend has become while he's been in a coma. Enjoy! :)**_

_**Chapter 5**__**  
(Mental Asylum)**_

"Hello Doctor. I'm here to see John Watson." Sherlock's voice still hadn't adjusted to being used. It still held small cracks of where it couldn't find the right note. His eyes were full of ever lasting tiredness. His skin looked cracked. Nobody had ever seen him in such a state.

"I'm sorry. Who are you, and what are you doing here?" The deep and booming voice of the Doctor at his desk didn't even look up to see the man who was standing before him.

"My*coughs* My name is Sherlock... (coughs again) Sherlock Holmes."Sherlock leaned his left hand against the desk. He could barely remember the events of 'Red Spider'. To him, it simply sounded like a story that John had named on his blog. On the other hand, it rung a bell deep inside his mind. "I want to see John Watson... Please." The Doctor looked at him. His eyes trailed every inch and crack upon Sherlock's body. He spun around on his chair and turned back to the newspaper that he was reading. It crinkled as every page turned. Sherlock started to see red. An anger over came him like none he had ever experienced.

"Let. Me. See. John. Watson! He tried to kill me 5 years ago. I think that Lestrade would allow me to see him. John is my best friend and I don't believe that for a second he could have done this willingly. Please."

*Cell door screeches open * Sherlock was thrown into a cell. It was his...

Two guards had grabbed him after the Doctor gave a quick nod to them. They hadn't read the newspapers about his 5 year coma. For all they knew, he was making this up to help John Watson escape. As Sherlock battled the two men, John heard the scrabbling of feet across the corridor. He didn't understand what was going on. He peered out of the metal prison that he had been trapped in for the past five years. He could see a long figure being dragged by two men straight towards the cell next to him. He didn't understand. Nobody had ever been next to him. Everyone in the Asylum was always too scared. One by one they apologised for their actions and were moved up to higher levels of the building. John didn't understand why this one was different.

"Here you go John. A lovely new inmate for you to drive polite. Enjoy." The men slammed door next to him and walked away smiling and laughing. All John could hear was the heavy breathing of a man who was clearly in pain. He didn't want someone next to him, especially someone who's constant survival was through asthma.

"Right. Can you stop your annoying noises... PLEASE. Some people like to have silence. Wait. Do I know you?" John could see the curly hair on the back of the man's head. He recognised it. From his past of course, but he didn't know exactly who it belonged to. "Turn around. I would like to see your face please..." John waited, but the man simply laid on the floor. He had no strength. "Or talk. Just talk to me." The body that lay before John started to mumble. It was obvious that he was finding it hard to get the words out of his mouth.

"John... It's me... It's Sherlock." The man turned around at looked up at the gap that John could see him through. "I came to see you." John's face changed. He remembered what he did 5 years previously, and he loved every second of memory. He could see the knife. He felt it in his grasp. The staining of Sherlock's blood upon his hands never left his sight. He could remember how he felt at the moment of climax. He was controlling how the famous Sherlock Holmes was going to end. But, then Lestrade came and ruined everything for him. Lestrade. A name that he hated. He never really planned a death for Lestrade. He was still fascinated with Sherlock. He hadn't finished what he had started. The last spider.

"They'll have to do an EEG test on you soon. Unlucky for some. During mine I used one of the needles, that was foolishly left by my side, and killed one of the male nurses by stabbing it through his eyes. They never tried to give me one of those again. Too scared I presumed." John's eyes looked at his old victim. How could he be here? He was supposed to still be in his coma. He waited for a response. He knew all about Sherlock's clever and witty remarks. He had spent a lot of time with him in the 3years before his sentence, how could he not. The man lying in front of him gave no reply. Instead he tried to get himself upon the slab that was to be his bed.

"You're more boring than I remember. And you didn't put up a fuss when I stabbed you either? You confused me for 5 long years, Sherlock. I thought that you would change yourself into an emotional wreck at the point of your death. I was wrong! How are you feeling?" John smiled at the struggling Sherlock. He was amused at how weak he had made his former best friend. "Do you know why I did it, Sherlock? Well, do you?" He now folded his arms. He couldn't believe that he had destroyed the notorious Sherlock Holmes so much. He was impressed, but he still wanted an answer. "How hard is it for you to say 'I don't know'?" He smirked.

"I don't know." He turned and faced the wall. He didn't want to even look at John's face. He could see how much he enjoyed trying to kill him in his facial expressions, even now. 5 years after Sherlock revealed who was really trying to kill him, he still couldn't forgive John for letting her control him. John laughed at Sherlock. He knew what he was thinking. But, John's vision began to go cloudy. He tried to clear it, but instead his body dropped to the ground. He lost all sensation. Everything that he told Sherlock was being lost. Deleted. Someone was deleting everything that happened to John in the 5 years that he sat alone in an empty prison cell.

"John." Sherlock had jumped to the bars. He could see John lying on the floor. The words that left his mouth were mumbles and Sherlock knew something was happening. John's body started to throw itself around the floor. He was fitting. Sherlock just stared. Hopeless and scared. John may have tried to kill him, but he didn't like watching him come to harm. He turned his head away. Trying to block out the noise on the floor.

After a few minutes, John lay still again. He could feel the cold floor pressing against his back. He didn't remember anything of what had happened to him. All he could see wast the white ceiling above him. It made him feel uncomfortable, but then his whole life started to fade away. He could feel himself leaving. This had happened once before. He knew that. Then everything went black. John was gone, again.


	6. Chapter 6

_**I hope you don't get offended by any of this, I love Molly to bits... I just think she'd be awesome like this! But that's my opinion.**_

_**Chapter 6-  
"John is gone"**_

"Hello Sherlock." John glided up from the floor. "So, now both you and John have a straight jacket? Unlucky." He smiled in a weird and awkward way, one in which Sherlock had never seen John pull.

"I'm guessing this isn't John's real voice. Is it you?" Sherlock stepped back from the bars. He couldn't understand how Molly had managed to take over John so completely. A scream came from deep inside John's throat. "What was that?" It wasn't John's male and deepish tone. In fact it was a woman's scream. A scream of terror.

"Forget her, Sherlock. I'm completing and autopsy on her. Oh. But the funniest part; she's still alive." The voice laughed, which meant that John's whole body moved around in a state of amusement. "And yes, it is I. I'm glad you finally remembered! It only took you five years." The scream came again. Molly's scalpel ripped into her victim's tissue. Her body was stretched out so far that little blood flowed from her as she was sliced apart.

"Help... Help me!" The woman's voice was high. She was in too much pain to say anything else. And then her screams stopped completely. Molly bound her mouth so tightly it was hard for the woman to even breath. She continued to struggle.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Molly teased her victim. All she was trying to achieve was a normal autopsy, however the woman didn't want to be there. "I just want your stomach. I'm desperately hungry." From inside John's mouth you could her the squelching of the woman's stomach being ripped out from inside her. Sherlock covered his ears.

"Stop it... STOP IT!" He screamed at John. "How can you be so cruel? You were always so lovely Molly. What turned you into. Well. THIS?" His voice started to tremble, and John's expression changed to show that Molly had noticed. He smirked, showing every single one of his teeth. The next noise from his mouth made Sherlock yelp. * Slice * "What did you do?" He could hear the blood dripping from the slab.

"I'll save her for you. You never know. You could use her as a place to use your riding crop." Molly smirked, so John followed. Both of them chuckled, teasing Sherlock. "Oh. This is the last time you'll speak to me as Molly as well. I changed my name." She twirled around the morgue. This was her favourite place to be; the one place where she could be her true person. Sherlock was confused. He turned to the wall and placed his broad hands on his hips. Why would Molly change her name.

"Are you scared Molly, or whatever your name is now? A killer wouldn't change their name unless they knew that they would be found out." Sherlock chuckled. He knew her too well not to know the truth. "Let me guess. You've died your hair red. A blazing and fiery red. Your auburn hair suits you so much better. You're now a nurse working at the hospital that I was in for..." He paused. Nobody knew why he kept waking and falling back into his coma. Not even the best Doctors in the whole of London could understand. Sometimes he would just wake up, scream, ask the nurse where he was and then faint violently back into his coma. Everyone would hope that he would remain awake. But no luck.

"Do you know what I did to you yet? While you were in hospital I mean." Molly had cleaned up the body and all of the blood around her. She was very quick with the aftermath. She didn't like wasting time that was valuable. "It's very clever isn't it. I changed my identity about five years ago. It was like having a secret identity. Wow. I've gone all superhero." She chuckled. She was enjoying having the upper hand over Sherlock. "I was your nurse." Molly's laugh filled the two cells and the morgue. She pulled her cloak over her head. It was a dark, blood coloured, silk cloak. Her grandmother used to call her 'Red Riding Hood' when she wore it around her.

Sherlock's breath was now heavy. His nurse was always a red-head. There was never anyone else around him. Only her. He started to pick at what she was saying. "You were there, the whole time. You kept me in a coma." His hands were now placed on his forehead with his eyes tightly shut. Never in his life had he reacted so badly to something like this. Maybe he cared for Molly too much. "How did you do it?"

"A drug. Just like John." The sound of a door closing came from inside John's mouth. Sherlock's eyes shot open. He threw himself at the bars demanding answers.

"How did you get John like this. HOW!?" His anger was built up too much for him to remain calm. His best friend was being controlled by someone who he once trusted.

"Woaw. Calm it cool stuff. All in good time. John was easy. Actually, you both were, but he was surprisingly easy to manipulate. He used to come to the morgue and buy me coffee. He always used to apologise for you. He needed the toilet a lot as I recall. Drug slipped right into his coffee. Quite clever really. He never even knew." Sherlock sighed. He couldn't believe how simple she was making the situation seem. "Every week he would come for coffee three or four times. This gave me a chance to boost the dosage. John caught the spiders you know. He had no record of it in his mind. I deleted it. Simple." Molly's voice was changing from the voice that Sherlock always knew she had, to one he could only remember from his dreams.

"Did you give me the same drug? Put it into my water?" He threw himself onto the bed, his arms were over his face. He, Sherlock Holmes, had been fooled by a girl from a morgue. It seemed easy to everyone around him, however he thought that his superiority meant that he could control himself.

"Exactly, Sherlock." Molly's voice had changed into a full on Scottish accent. Due to his sense still not being fully restored, he couldn't understand what John was trying to say. "My name is Hallie Morgan now. I was born in Kirkcaldy in Scotland. I'm a nurse for..." Sherlock interrupted her with the loudest voice he could manage.

"Stop it!" Hallie simply laughed. She wasn't using an earpiece any more. She had transferred to her mobile. She could control John from any where using it. To everyone around her, she looked like a normal human being.

"He's mobile you know, Sherlock. But, I don't need him any more. Molly Hooper doesn't exist. I can let him go. Both of you can sit in your lonely cells. You can insult him every time that he says sorry. That'll be a lot by the way." Hallie dropped the phone to the floor. The screen cracked into seven different pieces. "I'm going to set him free now. Goodbye Sherlock." And with that, Hallie stomped upon the phone. Her mission was over. She smiled and strolled elegantly towards the hospital. She couldn't be caught.

John started to tremble. His face was shattering. Every moment of his past was flooding back into his mind. He started to scream. Sherlock could feel his pain. He slid down the wall putting his head into his legs. John stopped with a sudden jolt. His body was thrown across the room. The controlled John was gone._**  
**_


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

He had a plan after all

"John?" John's eyes began to open. They were heavy and tired. "John?" The voice repeated. "You're in hospital John." The deep and lonely voice started to reach out for him. "You'll be fine." Footsteps left from John's pillow side and placed themselves at the end of his bed. His eyes were now fully open. He could see the dark shadow of the voice standing in front of him. His collar was up, his scarf wrapped tightly around his neck, his hands placed hard in his pockets.

"Hello Sherlock." John couldn't manage many words, but these were needed. "I'm sorry." Sherlock almost jumped onto John, however he remained calm and strolled quickly over to his pillow.

"You've got nothing to be sorry for John, it was Molly." Sherlock kissed John's forehead. He was glad that he had his best friend back. "She's gone now. She's hanging on a rope somewhere. America, I believe." Sherlock gave a quick smirk towards John and spun off the bed like a ballerina. John looked at Sherlock surprised. "What do you remember?"

John cleared his throat, "Well. I walked into the morgue and then everything went black... I stabbed you?" John looked into his hands trying not to look ashamed. He could feel the blood upon them. Sherlock could see right past John's face.

"Carry on. I want to see how much she actually deleted." Sherlock was interested in how much she allowed John to remember. He knew that the information he did remember was valuable. John looked up from his hands. He knew Sherlock didn't care about his actual feelings, but he didn't mind. He always knew this would be how Sherlock would react.

"I was put into the mental Asylum, wasn't I? I had a straight jacket because I had admitted to all of the murders. Erm..." John paused. "I... I was experimented on. I scared people, even the ones that were next door to me. In the asylum I killed people. There was this male nurse." Sherlock turned and faced out of the window of the room. He had heard this story from the other John.

"How did you do it." John sighed. "How did you do it, John?" Sherlock's voice became agitated. "John!" He started to shout.

"Alright... Alright. I stabbed a needle through his eye..." John started to gag. His throat started to pulse. He could feel the blood filling inside. * Blugh* John brought up blood. Although, he had never been like this before, Sherlock remained next to the window. The next few hours passed. A nurse came in once or twice to check on the blood. Meanwhile, John told Sherlock about his memories and how Molly has forced him to tease Sherlock when they were in opposite cells."How did they find her? She changed her name, didn't she?" Sherlock smiled out of the window. Even John was fooled by what he had done.

(Sherlock's Memory of the Asylum)

"Before you take me to my cell; I need to talk to you about something." Sherlock resisted the two men behind him. A hand was raised towards them.

"Do carry on Mr Holmes." The doctor was intrigued by Sherlock's sudden change in character. "If this is interesting then..." Sherlock slammed his hands onto the desk.

"John isn't John. He is being controlled, I don't know how or why, but I know by whom. She's most likely changed her identity so that the police can't find her. I need proof." Sherlock had started to pace around the Doctor's office.

"Who is she?" The Doctor folded his arms, trying to listen to Sherlock's increasing speed of tone.

"I don't know. Did you not just listen? Seriously, some people need to learn to listen." He slammed his hands onto his face. "I need the police here now." He pointed at the secretary looking in through the door. She'd heard shouting and decided to watch the event that what happening in the room next to her. "Go. And. Call. The. Police." He threw his hands to the side. "I also need a microphone so that you can hear everything that he says to me. She knew that I would come here demanding to see John. Record it. Record everything that is said in those two rooms. We'll need it to catch her." He put his arms out. "You two need to drag me to the cell next to him. The best acting you have please." The two men grabbed his arms. "Oh. Microphone." Sherlock pulled away and grabbed the microphone. "Are you ready?" Once again he was grabbed. The men started to drag him down the corridor. Sherlock winked at the Doctor. The game, was on!

(Back in the hospital)

Sherlock smiled and turned back to John. "You're fine John. I had a plan all along. Hallie Morgan and Molly Hooper are dead now, any way." From inside a bag that lay silently at the end of John's bed, Sherlock pulled out a cloak. It was blood red. He chuckled and pulled it around himself. "You never know, maybe it's the best thing for her." He threw the cloak onto John's face. It was pulled off immediately.

"Sherlock. There's actual blood on this...?" John pushed it onto the floor. His eyes were met with Sherlock's.

"Oh yeah. They cut her face off after she was hung." He laughed silently. "It's a shame really. I'll just give the cloak to Mrs Hudson. She _will_ be thrilled." After a few seconds of silence; both John and Sherlock smiled at one another.

"Case closed, eh, Sherlock?" John put his hands together on his lap.

"John. Never say that again." Sherlock's eyes rolled. Had he taught John nothing?

THE END!_**  
**_

**So that's it. What did you think? Please review! x**


End file.
